


The Kansas College of the Arts

by orphan_account



Category: Ballet - Fandom, Burlesque - Fandom, Dance - Fandom, Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Artist Castiel, Ballet, Ballet Dancer Dean, Burlesque, M/M, Pole Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-06
Updated: 2015-11-18
Packaged: 2018-04-30 07:18:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5155103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He walked in Heaven and mistook it for Earth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am not a native english speaker and this has not been beta-read. Therefore, all mistakes are my own and I'll gladly fix 'em if you let me know about 'em!

“Cas!”

 

Castiel jolted awake, disturbed by his roommates voice. “Wha-Wha’s happenin’?” He slurred tiredly as he rubbed at his eyes.

 

“We’re late, Cas!” Balthazar shouted from across the small dorm room. “Art history, ten minutes, across campus!”

 

That sure as hell woke Castiel up. He all but jumped out of his bed, wide awake in the blink of an eye. Castiel had no time to bother with who’s shirt he grabbed or what jeans he pulled on. He had barely fit his head through the t-shirt when he grabbed his bag and ran out the door, with Balthazar in a similar state not far behind him.

 

Castiel wished he could say it was the first time he had had to run across campus only half dressed. Sadly, he could not. Two years at the Kansas College of the Arts and many long nights in the studio had lead to innumerable sprints of the half-naked sort.

 

Despite the handful of strange looks both he and Balthazar were the targets of, seeing students in similar states running around on campus. It was an art school after all. Nothing less could be expected from a bunch of perplexed and confuzzled artsy types, Castiel supposed.

 

They reached their classroom just before their professor did, slipping past him through the door.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

“Dean!” Crowley shouted out over the club from the big window of his office above the bar.

 

Dean stopped and turned. The other dancers around him did the same. They were all equally annoyed by their employers interruption.

 

“What?!” Dean shouted back.

 

“Alfie’s sick! You’re taking his spot!” The suit-clad manager bellowed. “And no arguments!”

 

Before Dean could even begin to do just that, Crowley had slammed the window shut. Dean took a deep breath and bit his lip, then turned back to his dancers.

 

“Anybody got a knife?” He asked with a smile. “Just gonna stab that jackass in the face.”

 

The other dancers laughed at him as they scattered for a break. Dean grabbed his water bottle and sat down on the edge of the stage, with his feet dangling almost a foot and a half above the floor. Jo came and sat next to him some moments later, knocking shoulders with her pseudo-brother.

 

“What’s up, Dean-o?” She asked happily.

 

He couldn’t keep the smile off his face. “Nothin’. I’m good.” He said and took a drink of his water, momentarily wishing it was something far stronger.

 

Jo scoffed and shoved him again. “Now, that’s a lie, an’ you know it, cowboy.” She said.

 

Dean sighed, glaring up through the wall of windows into Crowley’s office. "Yeah. I’m just…it's, y'know, school and stuff." He said and drank from his bottle again.

 

The girl beside him nodded slowly. "Don’t I know it." She said. "I gotta cram for a buncha tests, and Crowley’s got us all working and practicin’ twice as often as usual."

 

"Yeah, graduations are comin’ up. The first few weeks are the busiest." Dean said and ran his hands over his face.

 

Dean wasn’t sure if he could handle another summer at The Purgatory Club. Like he said, they were the busiest weeks of the year. All the college kids in the city were free from their studies and scoured the streets for entertainment. Purgatory, as it was affectionately called, had become a city-wide favorite since its opening some years ago. A fun mix of burlesque and strip teasing, which drew in heaps of customers. Dean had worked there for little over two years then, since he started at the Kansas College of the Arts. He had started out waiting tables then tried out for a position as a back-up dancer. A few months later, he was bumped up to a lead.

 

Sure, he got to choreograph his own numbers and the pay was better than you’d think. But…doing burlesque wasn’t his dream. It wasn’t what he wanted to do forever. There were other things he had planned for himself. At the rate he was going, though, Dean doubted he would achieve the dream.

 

"I gotta get goin’. Got class in a few hours." Dean said and slid of the stage to his feet.

 

Jo hummed and smiled. "Have fun, ballet boy!" She called after him as he moved towards the door.

 

She just laughed when Dean gave her the finger.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not a native english speaker and this has not been beta-read. Therefore, all mistakes are my own and I'll gladly fix 'em if you let me know about 'em!

"Fuck…" Castiel sighed into his hands.

 

The canvas was still white and empty. Not even touched by a brush.

 

Castiel didn’t know what to paint. He had sat there for an hour already and the canvas was blank! Usually, the ideas popped into his head whenever, and he dropped everything in favor of his studio. Today he actually had scheduled studio time to work on his pieces, but nothing was happening!

 

"What is it, Cassy?" Balthazar asked from his corner of the studio, wiping clay covered hands off on his already dirty jeans. "No ideas?"

 

Castiel nodded.

 

The sculptor hummed. "Paint a few bees and you’ll be right as rain again." He suggested with a smile.

 

Talking about bees always lifted Castile’s spirits. In this particular instance, it didn’t seem to help at all.

 

"I’m going to the library." Castiel said as he got up.

 

He had grabbed his bag and left before Balthazar could get a word in edgewise.

 

Castiel was indeed headed for the library, but he didn’t choose the direct most route. He took the opportunity to roam the halls and grounds of his school, as he had many times before. He would even bet good money on the fact that he probably knew the school better than most of it staff. There were many solitary nooks and crannies that he had found were perfect places to sit and read, or study.

 

The dancers building was probably Castile’s favorite. There was always music playing, at any hour of the day. Anything from classical, to pop rock, and even a band he had been told was called Slayer. If he was careful, he could even peek in and watch the dancers practice. They were quite wonderful, all of them.

 

Castiel had a favorite, of course. There was a ballet dancer. He always practiced alone, mostly during the night. He was…he was beautiful. There was no other way to put it.

 

The Dancer…he was blonde, and his eyes were green. Castiel thought they were green at least, he had never seen the Dancer close enough to see for certain. He had more freckles than there were stars in the sky, that he was sure of at least. Castiel wouldn’t be lying if he said that he had a small crush. Okay, he would because his crush was anything but _small_!

 

When Castiel stopped in front of the library, he couldn’t for the life of him remember how he got there.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

Castiel looked up from his books when someone sat down opposite him at his table. He smiled when he saw Balthazar, spotted with clay as usual.

 

"Hey, Cassy." Balthazar said, a wide smile on his face.

 

"Hey, Balto." Castiel said, which made his friend frown.

 

"You know I hate that name." Balthazar said.

 

"And I hate Cassy." Castiel said and smirked. "So I’ll stop if you stop."

 

"I hate you, Castiel."

 

The artist laughed lowly. "I love you too, Balthazar." He mocked.

 

The sculptor stuck out his tongue at his friend then pulled his own books out of his bag.

 

"Hey, you know how your birthday is tomorrow?" Balthazar asked after some moments.

 

Castiel looked up. "I know _of_ it." He deadpanned.

 

Balthazar ignored him. "I have a friend who waits tables at this place called The Purgatory Club and he got us a table for tomorrow." He said. "You’re coming, and you have no choice in the matter."

 

Castiel sighed as he leaned back in his chair. "Fine. You’re buying the drinks."

 

"Deal!" Balthazar said quickly.

 

It was almost impossible to get Castiel out, even just for a dinner at a restaurant, and Balthazar was well aware of that fact. Therefore, he made sure not to give his roommate any chance to back out once he had agreed.

 

"We’re lucky, actually." Balthazar said, mildly absent mindedly, as he finally opened his books.

 

"And why is that?" Castiel asked.

 

"My friend said that the performer scheduled for tomorrow got sick, so their best is covering instead." The sculptor explained. "He’s supposed to be amazing."

 

Castiel hummed curiously. For a moment, he wondered if the clubs best dancer could measure up to the Dancer. If he was professional, Castiel supposed he could expect only good things.

 

"Who is he?" Castiel asked, wondering if he had ever heard of him before.

 

"Don’t know. But his stage name is Sage."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not a native english speaker and this has not been beta-read. Therefore, all mistakes are my own and I'll gladly fix 'em if you let me know about 'em!
> 
> Uploading may be a little slow in the future, because of school and life and all that stuff, y'know? :3

Castiel was uncomfortable. That wasn’t big news, really. He was uncomfortable anywhere that wasn’t his room or his studio. This was different, though. He was in a dark club that smelled of smoke, sweat, and alcohol, and there were so many people. Balthazar had a hold of his arm and was dragging him along through the crowd. There were already people on stage; two women and a man, whom Castiel supposed were entertaining the crowd until the real show started.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

"Sit still, Amy." Dean said, taking a hold of the girls chin to keep her from moving.

 

There was ten minutes left before the show, and only half the girls were ready. Ellen, the stage manager, was shouting orders every which way, which only served to increase the panic.

 

Dean filled in the last of Amy’s eyeshadow then sent her on her way. Her seat was quickly filled by Jo.

 

"Dean! I ran out of mascara, and my lipstick is smudging!" She said.

 

Dean just smiled and picked up a new brush.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

Finally, Castiel and Balthazar had found their table. The sculptor swore they were the best seats on the house. Balthazar ordered some drinks and they waited with bated breath.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

"C’mon, girls!" Ellen called over the big dressing room. "One minute 'til curtains! One minute!"

 

The girls grabbed their things, put the last touches on their make-up, and fixed their outfits.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

Castiel sipped his beer slowly, even though he hated the taste. He was actually kind of excited for the show. Balthazar had only said it was a burlesque type of thing. Castiel had never been to a burlesque show before, so he didn’t know what to expect.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

The curtains were still down. The girls filed out on stage and took their places, while Dean still waited backstage.

 

He was always nervous just before a show.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

The club was dark.

 

There was no one on stage.

 

The crowd was completely quiet.

 

A voice filled the place, pouring from the speakers like warm honey.

 

"Good evening, dear friends." He said. "We have something special for you this evening. Our own star, Sage, takes the stage! Joined by our magnificent girls, Pearl, Cookie, Sugar, Gigi, and Roxy!"

 

As the curtain went up, the band, hidden away somewhere out of sight, began to play. A jazzy big band tune, with trumpets and saxophones.

 

The spotlights focused on the stage, one on each performer. Five men stood with their back to the audience. They wore well-fitting suits and black bowler hats, all of them. Another spotlight lit up, and landed on the right of the scene.

 

The audience laughed and applauded as the last performer stepped onto the stage.

 

It was a tall and muscular man, but he was wearing a short dress. It was frilly and poufy, with glitter and sparkles almost all over. He even had long fake nails and eyelashes too long to be natural.

 

Castiel was in awe already. He was beautiful.

 

With a bang of the drums, one of the suit-clad dancers turned on her toes as the spotlights on the others went out. It was evident that it was a woman in drag, as there was no effort made to conceal any of her feminine figure.

 

The music turned into something more…passionate. A tango.

 

It was amazing to watch them dance. Sage was a very good dancer. Each of his steps were careful and calculated, that Castiel could see clearly, but he took them so effortlessly, as if they were all he knew in life. He walked in Heaven and mistook it for Earth. Sage embraced his partner like a lover, holding her close to his body. His arms enveloped her, as she did the same. They moved with one another so perfectly.

 

Suddenly, the woman froze but Sage danced on alone. The second woman in the line of dancer joined him, falling into the place of the first. They too moved like each other’s second half. As if they belonged in each other’s arms.

 

Castiel sat with his mouth hanging open. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He was watching all the greatness in the world condensed and collected into one single dancer that was just a few feet away from him! It felt like a dream, like he was at home in his bed just dreaming about perfection.

 

The second woman froze and was replaced by a third. They stood so still where they had been left; ice sculptures, or maybe stone statues, is what came into Castiel’s mind.

 

The artist couldn’t say how long they danced on, each dancer freezing and replacing each other. They danced until there was no one to replace and Sage was alone again. Yet he continued to dance.

 

He danced and he danced but he was so lonely, embracing nothing but air.

 

As the music began to taper off, the lights dimmed down. Sage danced until the very end, where he, too, became like ice.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

Castiel laughed at the act on stage. A few girls, made up like circus clowns, performed acrobatic feats that put the Olympics to shame.

 

Balthazar laughed as well, but his happiness was mostly because of his dear friend. Sometimes Castiel worried him. The painter became so buried in his art and his schoolwork that he forgot to…well, to live, really. Balthazar did all he could to bring Castiel out of his own head, but he was not so easily persuaded. The fact that Castiel even agreed to leave their room on his birthday was a massive win in Balthazar’s book.

 

Just getting out and having a few drinks would do Castiel good.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

Balthazar unlocked their dorm room door and let them both in. Castiel collapsed onto his bed as soon as he was within reach, letting out a tired noise. Balthazar sounded much the same when he laid down too.

 

"Did you like the show?" The sculptor asked before breaking out into a big yawn.

 

Castiel hummed lowly into his pillow. "Mmyeah…'s nice." He said.

 

Balthazar chuckled lowly and kicked off his shoes, closing his eyes to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not a native english speaker and this has not been beta-read. Therefore, all mistakes are my own and I'll gladly fix 'em if you let me know about 'em!
> 
> Uploading may be a little slow in the future, because of school and life and all that stuff, y'know? :3

The brush moved over the canvas like Sage had over the stage. Castiel could only hope he was a half as good at his craft as he had seen Sage was at his.

 

He had never before been as inspired as Sage had made him. It was almost weird.

 

Castiel didn’t think. That stopped the moment he entered the studio. From there on, everything that was inside him was on the canvas instead. Every emotion, every memory, every fiber of his being flowed from his body to his brush to his paintings.

 

Yet he didn’t feel empty. Castiel felt more alive in those moment, minutes, hours, than did any other place, any other time.

 

It was as if the world outside those four paint-splattered walls stopped existing. There was nothing outside that door for Castiel. Everything he needed was right there in front of him.

 

He had to go back. He had to see Sage again. Castiel had seen him once and he was already hopelessly lost for him. There was no turning back now.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

Sam unlocked the door to the apartment he shared with his brother, smiling when he heard music from inside. Dean was going over his routines again. The student stepped inside with the smile still on his face.

 

"Hey, Dean." He said, forcing his voice to remain normal.

 

"Hey." Dean said from the couch.

 

He barely reacted. Dean was far too occupied with his music. He counted himself down from the start, every step in its proper place and in perfect order. The performance played out in his head just like he had practiced it.

 

"Sorry I missed the show last night." Sam said from the kitchen. "My professors are sociopaths with all these damn tests."

 

Dean paused his music and got up. "Nah, 's fine." He said as he joined his brother in the kitchen.

 

As if having expected him, Sam handed him an uncapped beer and sipped his own.

 

"Thanks. Glad you missed it." Dean said flatly and took a long gulp of his drink.

 

Sam snorted at him. "Really?" He asked.

 

"Yup." Dean said, hoping that would be the end of it.

 

It wasn’t, of course. Sam was too damn nosy for his own good! It had gotten to the point where he didn’t even have to say anything! He just gave his brother that _look_ , and Dean spilled the beans. Dean couldn’t resist the lawyer-y look he knew was coming.

 

Dean sighed. "Fine! I had to wear a dress, okay?!" He said.

 

He could see the suppressed smile on his brothers lips. Oh, Dean just wanted to smoosh his smug little face!

 

"That’s okay." Sam choked out, barely restraining himself. "Nothing wrong with that."

 

The look Dean gave him was dripping with sarcasm.

 

"Well, tonight’ll be better." Dean said. "No dresses for me." He muttered as he hurried out of the kitchen again.

 

He could hear Sam following him. "So what’re you doin’ tonight?" He asked.

 

Dean sat back down on the couch in the living room, where Sam quickly filled the other spot. "Come by the club an' you’ll see." Dean said smugly.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

Castiel stood outside the doors of the Purgatory Club. It was almost eight o’clock. The evening show wouldn’t start for another fifteen minutes maybe. That’s what he had been told when he called to book a table at least.

 

He was…nervous. He didn’t know exactly why, really. He was just going to watch the show, have a few beers, maybe get something off the menu. No big deal, right?

 

Wrong. So wrong!

 

Castiel would see Sage perform again. The woman he had talked to had assured him that Sage would be on stage as usual, since it was Saturday. That was apparently his regular spot. Castiel would actually see him again, and watch him perform. He couldn’t wait any longer. He hurried inside as if him being there would make the show start sooner.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

Dean breathed deeply as he stretched his body in preparation. There would be a few smaller acts to start off the night and get the crowd ready, but he was the main act.

 

Even after almost a year of being one of the 'stars', he was still nervous before the shows. What if something went wrong? What if he messed up? Missed a step and lost focus? Slipped and fell?

 

"Dean!"

 

The dancer turned on his toes, a smile filling his face when he spotted his brother in the throng of people. Sam shuffled through the crowd of performers and staff to his brother.

 

"Hey!" Sam said happily, mildly out of breath.

 

"Hey, Sammy." Dean said, smirking.  "Takin a break from the library? Sure she wont miss ya?"

 

Sam snorted and gave his brother a playful shove. "Ha, ha, ha, Dean." He said oh, so sarcastically. "Wanna tell me what you’re doin’ tonight?"

 

"New routine." Was all Dean said.

 

"C’mon!" Sam pleaded. "Details!"

 

Deans smirk seemed to grow more smug by the second. "Go sit and you’ll see for yourself." He said in that patented big-brother-I-know-something-you-don’t-tone that Sam knew well.

 

Sam frowned but was shoved back towards where he had come from by a smiling Dean.

 

He still warm-ups to do anyway.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not a native english speaker and this has not been beta-read. Therefore, all mistakes are my own and I'll gladly fix 'em if you let me know about 'em!

Castiel sat close to the stage. Not close enough to be visible by the performers, he hoped, but far back enough that he had a good view of the whole stage.

 

The beer he was nursing was growing warmer from Castiel’s sweaty hands. Nervosity was a bitch and a half. He emptied the bottle quickly in hopes that it would settle his nerves a little. There was no immediate effect, but as the lights dimmed and the show started he could feel himself begin to relax.

 

Sage wasn’t first out, of course. There was the opening act, and a few small performances that followed it. Nothing too big or elaborate, but entertaining nonetheless. Castiel would gladly have watched more of them if he wasn’t waiting for Sage to have his turn.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

Jo and Amy were finishing up their knife-throwing act. It was almost Deans turn. The stagehands were ready to move as soon as the curtain dropped. It would only take them a minute to get his props in place.

 

Dean took a deep breath as Jo and Amy bowed to the audience. From where he stood, he could see Sam sitting at his usual table. He was clapping along with the rest of the people.

 

The girls jogged off the stage while the curtain went down. Dean waited and waited and waited until he was given the green light.

 

"Silence, I beg you." The announcer spoke softly, and the audience went quiet as the grave. "We will now welcome our Sage."

 

It was so silent. Dean could hear his heart pounding in his ears.

 

The curtain was pulled up.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

The air got caught Castiel’s throat.

 

Sage…more beautiful than ever before.

 

The dancer shuffled out onto the stage, dressed in sweats and a hoodie with a gym bag over his shoulder.

 

Behind him, back of the stage, were barres, like the ones in a ballet studio. Before him, was a stripper pole, supported by God knows what.

 

Sage crossed the stage with feather light steps until he reached the end of the barre. There, he dropped his bag with a heavy thud and pulled the hoodie over his head. He stepped out of his sweatpants as well, leaving him in a pair of short tights that were as blue as the night sky.

 

Castiel noticed his feet. Sage had a pair of black en pointe shoes on, tied to his calves with strings of black silk. He was a ballet dancer too? What was Castiel’s fixation with ballet dancers?

 

He had no time to think about it. Sage pulled him in, as he did the rest of the club. His beauty was radiant. The sight of him made onlookers curious, and almost put them in a trace.

 

Sage centered himself in front of the barre and put his right hand on it. He rose onto the tips of his feet, balancing so perfectly. He raised his free arm over his head. The pose made him look stunning.

 

Music filled the club. Castiel was almost disappointed to hear it. No music written by men or women could measure up.

 

Sage moved away from the barre en pointe, each step so short but made all the difference. He seemed to float. It was such a strange thing to see, really. A man with wide shoulders and hips, and bulk to put anyone to shame, moving so gracefully and softly. He pirouetted around himself, shifting from foot to foot, and soared across the stage.

 

He stopped suddenly, balancing on his left foot, near the pole. He grasped the pole with both hands as he raised his right leg. His legs made a perfectly vertical line.

 

Castiel’s mouth fell open as Sage swung his right leg back down and leapt onto the pole, spinning around it slowly.

 

Sage was curled up into a tiny little ball. In that position, he seemed so…small and fragile, the lightest touch would break him into a thousand pieces.

 

He sat still for a moment as the music rose and rose. As it hit its peak, Sage began to move on the pole. His first move was almost quicker than Castiel could comprehend. Sage let go of the pole with his hands and fell back, but the tight grip he had with his legs kept him from falling. He spun around the pole and the crowd was in awe.

 

Castiel couldn’t describe it. There were so many emotions that filled him. The intensity almost made him tear up, and he didn’t understand why.

 

In some way he thought Sage was bringing it out of him. Watching the dancer perform with raw emotion made Castiel want to feel as well. He wanted to feel everything; every emotion in the world, Castiel wanted to experience them.

 

He couldn’t stop himself from pulling his sketchpad from his bag, the habit of always carrying pens and paper with him was older than he could remember. Castiel flipped open an empty page and put his pen to it.

 

The emotions filled him so quickly. He was barely looking at the paper, his eyes were glued to the stage. His hand seemed to move on its own and filled the page, little by little, line by line.

 

In the blink of an eye…the music stopped. Castiel looked up from his drawing just in time to watch Sage bow to his audience before jogging off stage.

 

It was over? Castiel hadn’t even noticed. He looked down at his sketch and smiled at what he saw in the low light.

 

When the waitresses began to file through the audience again Castiel easily signaled one over to himself. As she made her way towards him, he tore the page out of the pad and signed it with a quick CN before folding it in half.

 

"Hey, honey." The waitress said with sugary lips when she reached Castiel’s table. "What can I get ya?"

 

"Nothing." Castiel said, but held out the paper to her. "Um. Can you give this to Sage? It’s just, um…"

 

The dark-haired woman sighed and took the paper from him, unfolding it for inspection. "Oh, wow!" She exclaimed, with wide eyes. "This is really pretty! You made this?"

 

Castiel nodded hesitantly. "Uh. Yeah. I-I'm an artist." He stammered.

 

"Wow. Sure, yeah!" The woman said, her smile wide. "I’ll give it to him!"

 

"Thanks." Castiel said. "And…just the check, please."

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

Dean fell into the chair in front of his mirror backstage. God, he was out of breath. He tried as best he could to inhale slowly to calm his pounding heart. He leaned his sweaty body against the back his chair and relaxed himself.

 

He didn’t count the minutes that he sat there, just breathing, but it felt amazing. There was always that calmness just after a show, when he was still coming down from the adrenaline high of performing. It was probably his favorite part of the job.

 

Those moments were so good. All the noise was filtered out, until he could only hear his own heartbeat and sound of his breathing.

 

"Winchester!"

 

Dean bit his tongue. Of course Crowley would have complaints even though his performance perfect! The dancer stood up, towering over hos boss.

 

"What?"

 

Crowley scoffed at him. "I thought I told you to keep that ballet crap out of my club." He said.

 

"That _ballet crap_ " Dean said, restraining himself from throwing punches. "-just got you a fifty new regulars and you know it."

 

Dean stared at Crowley, and Crowley stared at Dean.

 

"Fine." Crowley said at last.

 

Dean didn’t like the smirk that filled his face then.

 

"Then I suppose you won’t have a problem with that being your lead act for the next three, four months, since it draws in so many new regulars."

 

As usual, Crowley was a slippery bastard and had walked away before Dean could protest.

 

Oh, the urge to murder Crowley had never before been so strong. But Dean took a deep breath, and sat down. There was no point in him losing his job just because his boss was a major asshole.

 

"Dean!" Lisa called, making the dancer look up again.

 

He smiled when he saw the waitress, whom he considered a dear friend. She hurried towards him and fell into the seat next to his.

 

"Lisa." Dean said tiredly. "You don’t happen to be smugglin’ a bottle o whiskey under that skirt?"

 

The woman scoffed at him, her smile as playful as his words had been. "Sorry, hun. Not this time." She said. "But I do have something for you."

 

Dean wasn’t very surprised when she handed him a folded up piece of paper. He sighed and leaned back in his chair. Another horny customer offering him some _extra cash_. Dean was, quite frankly, sick of that shit.

 

For some reason, he still unfolded the note. Just to see what kind of shit they had made up this time.

 

His eyes widened. That was definitively not a sleazy offer.

 

It was him. Like, a sketch of him. It looked a little rough, maybe a bit rushed, but…beautiful. He was drawn in blue ink, standing en pointe. It looked as if he was captured mid-pirouette. His face was turned away, but that was unmistakably him.

 

"Wha-…who made this?" He asked Lisa almost breathlessly.

 

The woman shrugged. "Don’t know. Some guy in the audience." She said. "He said he was an artist."

 

"Is he still here?" Dean questioned.

 

"No. Sorry." Lisa said. "Paid his check and left."

 

Dean was disappointed at that. He would have loved to meet _CN._ He was obviously very talented. Dean grabbed the blob of blue tack he had stuck to his mirror, ripping out a small piece and using it to put the sketch up near the edge of the mirror. It joined a mass of pictures and mementos Dean had collected since he started at the club. It was like a massive scrapbook that framed his face every time he sat down. The sketch was a beautiful addition.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not a native english speaker and this has not been beta-read. Therefore, all mistakes are my own and I'll gladly fix 'em if you let me know about 'em!

Castiel was nervous, like always. His mentor was going through their class, looking at their work to see how they were doing for their final project for the year.

 

Hannah and Inias, the other painters he shared the studio with, were nervous too. Castiel could see it on them. They were fervently trying to pick out their best work to put on display.

 

Hannah did mostly land- and cityscapes. Castiel found her work very interesting. She put things in a perspective that he wasn’t used to. Each time she put up a new canvas on her easel Castiel was overwhelmed with curiosity.

 

Inias worked with surrealism. His paintings were weird and off-kilter. Castiel never knew what to expect from him, which was pretty fun actually. He was always surprised, and impressed, by Inias' final products.

 

Balthazar had a different mentor since he was a sculptor, not a painter, so he was still sleeping off the hangover he had contracted. He and a few of his friends had apparently gone bar crawling the night before.

 

As mentioned, Castiel was nervous. He wasn’t as nervous as he usually was, though. There was actually a smidge of confidence in himself this time around. That was mostly because of the works he had chosen to display.

 

Two paintings; one of Sage, and the other of the Dancer.

 

The painting of Sage was pretty much the same as the sketch Castiel had given him, but more detailed, of course. His tights were as close to that deep blue color as Castiel had been able to get. The artist hoped dearly that he remembered the placement of each and every freckle on the mans body, and had placed them in their proper location.

 

The Dancer sat on the floor of his own studio, with mirrors all around him. His body was relaxed and resting. You could almost feel his power just from looking at the painting. You could feel his grace and his skill. Castiel had done his best to imbue the Dancers essence into the paint and the brushes and the canvas. He had sat for hours working on all the slightest details. Every sandy hair on his head, the folds in his t-shirt, the creases in his shorts.

 

In Castiel’s eyes, they were masterpieces. Not the paintings, the models.

 

They were the true art in all of it.

 

There was a knock at the door. The artists froze.

 

"The moment of truth." Hannah said softly as Inias jogged over to the door.

 

"Professor Shurley." Inias said after letting the bearded little man into the studio.

 

"Please, Inias." The man said with a smile. "I’ve told you a hundred times to call me Chuck. Titles make my skin itch."

 

Inias nodded, clearing his throat awkwardly. "So, _Chuck_." He said. "Were at your disposal."

 

Chuck smiled and shuffled through the room to Hannah’s station. All the artists waited in suspense as he studied her paintings, seemingly taking in every brushstroke and choice of color. He spoke softly to Hannah now and then, and she replied in kind to defend her work.

 

After roughly twenty minutes, Chuck thanked Hannah and moved on to Inias. The Professor appeared to enjoy the students surrealist captions, and asked him many questions. Inias didn’t hesitate to answer each and every one of them.

 

Castiel could hardly breathe when his turn came. Chucks soft steps tolled like church bells in his head. The man moved aside as his mentor stopped before the paintings.

 

"These are new." Chuck said. "I haven’t seen them before."

 

Castiel cleared his throat. "N-No. I finished them last week." He explained.

 

The Professor hummed, crossing his arms over his chest. He studied the paintings one by one just as he had the others on display. He started with Sage, which Castiel had titled simply _Sage_. Then, of course, Chuck moved on to _The_ _Resting_ _Dancer_ , as Castiel called it.

 

"And it’s the same model?" Chuck asked suddenly.

 

"W-What?" Castiel stammered, waking from hibernation.

 

Chuck just smiled. "You used the same model for both of these, yes?" He repeated.

 

Castiel was…confused. They weren’t the same. They were completely different people! Wasn’t that obvious? The Dancer was graceful and elegant and beautiful, and Sage was…all that too.

 

What?

 

They weren’t the same! How could they be? But they were so…the same.

 

How did Castiel not realize it before? How could <he>, of all people, miss that?

 

"I-I guess, yeah." Castiel said. "I mean…I didn’t, y’know…"

 

Chuck hummed. "An observation of male dancers. Interesting." He said, as if that made _total sense!_

Castiel blacked out. He answered every other question Chuck had, but he had no memory of it. All he could think of was the fact that he had, _somehow_ , fallen in love with the same person _twice!_

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

It was the middle of the week. Dean had a few days off from work, but that sure as hell didn’t mean he got to just lay around all day. He still had school.

 

Dance practice, dance theory, physical training, and all that crap. Some days he almost had the urge to just quit his job, drop out of college, and just go work at a garage somewhere. He knew he would hate himself forever if he did though, so he let the urge remain unsatisfied.

 

Plus, where would he be without his mascot, the weirdo who watched him practice sometimes? The dude obviously thought Dean couldn’t see him creeping by the door.

 

The walls were covered in mirrors. Dean could watch the whole studio without even turning his head. Of course, he had spotted his… _fan_.

 

He had never said anything about it. Sometimes it was kind of… _nice_ having someone there watching. Dancing in a big studio all by his lonesome gave him the heebiest of jeebies.

 

Okay, so maybe Dean didn’t want to admit the obvious. He had a crush on his fucking stalker.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

Dean couldn’t focus. He danced on auto-pilot, taking each step as he had practiced, but he wasn’t there. Naomi yelled at him for being so…distant.

 

He tried though. He tried so hard to move in sync with Sarah, to stay in character. It wasn’t working. He almost fucking dropped her in the middle of their first lift. Thank all the Gods there were that he managed to catch her before she hit the floor.

 

"Dean! Sit!" Naomi shouted, pointing to the side of the studio. "You aren’t making another move in this studio until you focus! Sarah could’ve broken a leg!"

 

"It’s okay, Naomi. I’m fine, I swear." Sarah tried to help, but their teacher wouldn’t hear it.

 

"No, Sarah, it’s not okay." She said. "He could end your career if he drops you, and I won’t risk that. Sit, Dean."

 

Dean sighed but did as he was told. He would have hated himself forever if he ended up hurting Sarah just because he couldn’t keep his head in the game. Naomi was right and they all knew it. Dean sat down on the floor and grabbed his water bottle.

 

"Michael, take Deans place. Anna, trade with Sarah." Naomi ordered.

 

Sarah came and sat down next to Dean as Naomi counted the new pair off.

 

"Hey, you okay, Dean?" She asked lowly.

 

Dean nodded. "Yeah. I guess." He said.

 

"You’re a terrible liar." Sarah said with a smile.

 

The blonde chuckled softly. "So I’ve been told." He said. "I guess I’m just…I don’t know. Stressed, or something."

 

"We should do something." Sarah suggested. "Grab a coffee, or a beer. Just…take a break. I think I’ll need one too if Naomi keeps riding us like this."

 

Dean snorted. "Yeah, I like the sound of that." He said, referring to the beer. Preferably several of them.

 

"Hey, y’know the art kids?" Sarah asked.

 

"Yeah." Dean said, mildly curious as to where that question may lead.

 

"Well, the seniors are putting up a big gallery showing for the end of the semester, and I happen to have a few tickets." Sarah said with a proud smile.

 

Dean hummed. "And how exactly did you get your hands on those?" He asked, playfully nudging her in the side with his elbow.

 

Sarah tutted at him, nudging back. "A lady doesn’t kiss and tell." She said loftily. "But I do have ten tickets. So you invite four friends, I’ll invite four friends, we’ll grab a few beers after, and make a night of it."

 

The dancer sighed tiredly. He wasn’t really one for schmoozing around art galleries with a bunch of big wigs and fancy pants, but it did sound mildly…tempting. He could bring Sam and his girlfriend, Charlie liked art, and maybe Jo would come to if Dean promised to buy the first round of drinks.

 

"Alright." Dean said at last. "When is it?"

 

Sarah lit up even more, happy to have convinced Dean. "Friday in two weeks." She said. "That’s for students and parents and shit. The big show isn’t until a few weeks later."

 

"So, what? It’s like a trial run?" Dean asked, sounding mildly confused.

 

"Basically, yeah." She said. "To give the artists a feel for it."


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not a native english speaker and this has not been beta-read. Therefore, all mistakes are my own and I'll gladly fix 'em if you let me know about 'em!

Oh, God, someone save Castiel from this hell! He felt like he was about to throw up. It was just the test-show, but still! A bunch of people he didn’t know would be all over his art, and he was not prepared! Not prepared! So not prepared!

 

Fuck, this tie was choking him. He couldn’t breathe. Why couldn’t he breathe?! He was standing by his part of the gallery, choking on air.

 

All the artists were nervous as well, but Castiel was pretty sure he was the only one who was on the verge of an anxiety attack.

 

"Everyone! Hello, everyone!"

 

That was Chuck’s voice. Castiel pulled himself together and shuffled over towards the Professor, following the lead of everyone else. The whole group gathered around Chuck, who was mildly dressed up for the occasion with a garish tie to match his button-up.

 

"Okay! So, we’ll be opening the doors in roughly two minutes." He said, speaking louder than any of the students were used to from him. "So just…mingle, and talk about…art. And stuff."

 

Great pep talk, Castiel muttered in his head.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

The whole group was getting annoyed. Most of them were just there because they had been promised free beer and burgers. Both Sarah and Dean were starting to regret coming to the damn exhibit. Could the clock just hit six already?!

 

It seemed luck was favoring Dean that evening because just as he had finished that thought, a short little man with an unkempt beard unlocked the door for them.

 

"Welcome!" He said with a polite smile, gesturing for them to enter.

 

The ten of them, having somehow ended up at the front of the line, hurried inside. Really, they just wanted to get it over with so they could go eat. The line of people behind them filed in as well, almost over-running the coat check desk.

 

The group splintered off from one another; Sarah and her friends headed off in one direction, Sam and Jess in another, Charlie and Jo already had got to talking outside so they dumped Dean without even looking back.

 

So Dean was on his own. Great. He stopped one of the surprisingly few waiters that were moving through the crowd. Dean threw back a glass of cheap champagne in one big gulp, and another, before taking one for the road. That waiter was definitively giving him the stink eye when Dean finally let him off the hook.

 

The dancer took a deep breath and followed the crowd. He sauntered through the gallery, sticking out like a sore thumb among all the well-dressed people. Sarah said it was casual dress, and Dean was dressed about as casual he could without running around in his undies. Stained jeans, old t-shirt, and, as was customary for any self-respecting Winchester, a nice layer of plaid to top it off.

 

Sure, Dean was a dancer, and a good one at that, but this whole…art thing wasn’t his scene. Never had been, probably never would be. With dance, you got to put your…everything on display all at once, the whole shabang. There was no way to hide anything.

 

With art, it was just a picture. No emotion, no story, no…Dean couldn’t describe it, it just fell short for him.

 

Not to say that he didn’t appreciate the pictures; they were nice, really. He just didn’t…get them. Get the point of them.

 

But Dean sauntered through the exhibit at a comfortable pace, stopping here and there to get a better look. By that point he was really just waiting for the others to finish so they could go grab some grub. His stomach was rumbling, that champagne did not sit right with him.

 

"Dean! Dean, oh my God! Dean!"

 

That was Charlie’s voice. Dean turned on his toes, searching for the sparky redhead. There she was, mowing through the crowd with Jo and the crew in tow.

 

"What? What is it?" Dean asked quickly. "What’s wrong?"

 

The four of them gathered around the dancer, all with big smiles on their faces.

 

"Dude, you _need_ to see this!" Sam insisted. "Like, _right now!_ "

 

"What? See what?" The dancer asked, more confused than he had probably ever been before.

 

"Just c'mon!" Jo said as she grabbed his rolled up right sleeve and dragged him with her.

 

Jo was powerful for her small size, being able to forcibly move Dean’s quite heavy body. Maybe the fact that the rest of their posse was nudging him along. And by _nudging_ Dean meant _shoving him forward while giggling like a pack of giddy school girls behind him._

 

Dean went along with it, only slightly resisting. He was curious after all. What was it they wanted so badly for him to see? It was obviously something he couldn’t afford to miss.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

Castiel was practically glued to Balthazar’s side. His sculptures had, thank God, been placed near where Castiel’s paintings hung, so the painter didn’t feel too bad about sticking close to his roommate.

 

Balthazar, the social butterfly, was maintaining about three conversations at the same time. People were flocked around him. Castiel recognized some of them from the pictures on Balthazar’s desk, and a few from campus. The others he had no recollection of.

 

It didn’t matter. They all terrified him anyway. Castiel wasn’t sure what was wrong with him. Usually, he was just a little nervous around new people and in new places, but this…this was something completely different. His voice failed him, the sweat was pooling on his back and soaking into his pressed white button up, and his hands were shaking.

 

Maybe it was the fact that all those people would most likely stop and look at Castiel’s paintings some time during the evening.

 

They would look at his art and see only a picture; a set of brush strokes and a motive, nothing more. None of them would see it. They would look, but they wouldn’t _see._

 

A piece of Castiel’s soul was inside each of those strokes. Ever line and curve and shape carried him with it. Castiel was inside the painting, he _was_ the painting, but none of them could see him.

 

Castiel could see it. He could see himself there, like a reflection of who he was the exact moment he made each new stroke with his brush.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

They finally stopped. Jo pulled him forward another step, then abruptly let him go and took a few short steps back. Dean was utterly confused.

 

The confusion was gone the moment he looked up. Or no, it wasn’t. Maybe it was, but not really.

 

Dean stared at the big painting before him. It…it was CNs sketch of him. It was and wasn’t at the same time! It looked exactly like it but there it was an actual…thing and not just a rushed sketch.

 

It was like a reflection of Dean! How was that possible? Painting-Deans skin was the exact sane color as real Deans, tanned and spotted with freckles. The shoes and the tights were just the same as the ones in Dean’s gym bag in Baby’s backseat.

 

Dean tore his eyes away only to look at the other paintings that hung on the same wall. They were all of him! Every inch of his body was depicted in perfect detail! All of him, from the hairs at the nape of his neck to the callouses on the soles of his feet.

 

_Sage, The Resting Dancer, A Body in Motion, The Passion, Harmony, Clarity…_

 

Even their fucking names were beautiful!

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

Castiel still couldn’t breathe, but now there was a new reason to blame for it.

 

He looked through the crowd and over to his own works. There, he spotted Sage, the Dancer, whatever his name truly was. Castiel would know that hair and that profile anywhere.

 

Castiel pushed through the throng of people, moving towards his model as fast as he could.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

Whoever painted these had to be _CN_. It couldn’t be anyone else. Dean was sure of it!

 

"You…"

 

The raspy voice made him turn. Dean’s eyes widened. His stalker? His ever-present audience?

 

"You’re the…" Dean attempted but failed.

 

The man was so beautiful, just like every other time Dean had seen him. He was dressed in a black suit and a white shirt, but his blue tie was crooked and lopsided. His face told of surprise and of awe, his eyes big as he stared at Dean.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

Castiel had never seen the Dancer like that, so relaxed and casual in his jeans and plaid. He was as stunning as ever though. His eyes were green like the most perfect emeralds in the world. No, better than that!

 

Castiel couldn’t tear his eyes away.

 

"Are you _CN_?" The Dancer asked after some moments.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

Dean thanked God for that one coherent sentence.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

"Castiel." The painter said. "Novak. Castiel Novak."

 

The Dancer nodded.

 

"Dean Winchester." He said.

 

Castiel nodded.

 

"You…" Castiel said, but changed his mind and tore his eyes away to look at his paintings instead. "What do you think?"

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

Dean cleared his throat awkwardly as he too looked at the paintings again.

 

"They’re beautiful." He said lowly. "You made them."

 

Castiel nodded, answering the question that wasn’t really a question.

 

"I missed you." Dean said then.

 

Castiel’s head whipped around and he stared in confusion.

 

"I practiced in the studio but you didn’t come watch me." Dean said, cheeks flushing pink.

 

Castiel’s eyes widened.

 

"Y-You saw me?"

 

Dean nodded. "I…I missed you. When you weren’t there." He said, his voice so low in embarrassment. "It was hard to dance without you."

 

Sam appeared in the corner of Dean’s eye, but before Dean could say a word Sam had pushed him towards Castiel. The dancer stumbled into Castiel, who clamored to get a hold of the blonde. They ended up in a tangled mess of arms and stammering apologies, but…somehow neither of them minded having the other wrapped around them.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

If Castiel had a permanently hired model, no one said a damn thing. And if Dean had the perfect one-man audience…well, his friends and his brother said a whole lot about it, but Dean couldn’t bring himself to give a shit about what they said.


End file.
